Life Is Mean
I've heard lots of women say that
going to a movie by themselves produced some of the most liberating feelings
they've ever experienced. So tonight, even though I'm running a fever and my
brain is melting out my nose, and even though my IC friends are going tomorrow
during my date to see the Men's and Women's choruses (whoo.), I decided to go
watch Volver at International
Cinema.
My hair's getting really parched, so I slathered it in deep conditioner after taking a hot shower in an attempt to loosen aforementioned melted brain from my sinus cavities. I didn't wear makeup, and I put on a slouchy outfit from a couple days ago. In short, I looked hideous. I mean, my eyes are red and watery, my (always large) nose is even redder and chafing from all those Kleenexes, and I've got a huge zit on my chin that really stands out when my face is white and feverish. My hair, being full of conditioner, is clumpy, to put it mildly. You may think I'm exaggerating, but I'm really, really not: I can look ugly, and I definitely look very ugly right now. (Guys who say they're freaked out because a girl looks totally different without makeup are talking about me.) I could take a picture, but my camera's batteries are dead.
But none of this mattered, because I was going to the movie by myself, and movies are dark. That's when life decided to play one of it's cruel jokes. I should have seen it coming, especially since just last week I wrote, "The uglier you look, the more people whom you know will be dying to talk to you." Well, I got there before the lights went out, but I didn't want to linger outside because I'd just seen my reflection in one of the glass doors: Yuck. So there I am, sitting by myself, and who should decide to sit right in front of me but a contingent of people from my ward, including the man I almost tried to seduce with Operation Vixen?
I pretended to be asleep before the movie started, and luckily a woman I know from Middle East History to 1800 sat next to me, so I didn't look like a loner on top of looking like an adolescent boy with gender-identity issues. My seal-with-emphysema cough didn't help the low profile. I rushed out as soon as the credits came on, so I wouldn't have to talk to them. I doubt it worked, but I'm going to pretend that I looked so different from my normal self that they didn't recognize me.
On the way home, I saw a black H3 with extra-special cage accessories. Someone's feeling castrated!
As far as the movie's concerned, it was wonderful.
My hair's getting really parched, so I slathered it in deep conditioner after taking a hot shower in an attempt to loosen aforementioned melted brain from my sinus cavities. I didn't wear makeup, and I put on a slouchy outfit from a couple days ago. In short, I looked hideous. I mean, my eyes are red and watery, my (always large) nose is even redder and chafing from all those Kleenexes, and I've got a huge zit on my chin that really stands out when my face is white and feverish. My hair, being full of conditioner, is clumpy, to put it mildly. You may think I'm exaggerating, but I'm really, really not: I can look ugly, and I definitely look very ugly right now. (Guys who say they're freaked out because a girl looks totally different without makeup are talking about me.) I could take a picture, but my camera's batteries are dead.
But none of this mattered, because I was going to the movie by myself, and movies are dark. That's when life decided to play one of it's cruel jokes. I should have seen it coming, especially since just last week I wrote, "The uglier you look, the more people whom you know will be dying to talk to you." Well, I got there before the lights went out, but I didn't want to linger outside because I'd just seen my reflection in one of the glass doors: Yuck. So there I am, sitting by myself, and who should decide to sit right in front of me but a contingent of people from my ward, including the man I almost tried to seduce with Operation Vixen?
I pretended to be asleep before the movie started, and luckily a woman I know from Middle East History to 1800 sat next to me, so I didn't look like a loner on top of looking like an adolescent boy with gender-identity issues. My seal-with-emphysema cough didn't help the low profile. I rushed out as soon as the credits came on, so I wouldn't have to talk to them. I doubt it worked, but I'm going to pretend that I looked so different from my normal self that they didn't recognize me.
On the way home, I saw a black H3 with extra-special cage accessories. Someone's feeling castrated!
As far as the movie's concerned, it was wonderful.
posted by Bethylene at 23:30
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